Stage Shoes

Date: 11/23/2016

My bare feet sink into the plush carpet of the auditorium. I never wear shoes to rehearsals, ever. I couldn't care less if a loose nail from the construction crew pierced it. This is home, and you never wear shoes in the home. He isn't wearing his glasses. The blues and greens in his eyes wrap around each other in a pattern that no language had the fitting words to describe. His glasses were simply picture frames bordering works of art worthy of worship. "You got your lines down?" He asks as he notices me staring. I nod and don't stop. He shoves me playfully, "Quit looking at me like that." "Stop me." I say poking him in the rib, causing him to convulse. The director calls my name, and I'm in her presence in seconds. "We're going to try something new today." She tells me in a hushed whisper, "His reactions aren't strong enough. I'm not getting a sense of nervousness from his character." "So what can I do?" I wonder out loud. "I'm asking you to kiss him." This is no issue for me. Kisses fade into something platonic after the concept is swallowed by the stage, "Sure, I can do that." I begin to walk backstage after writing it into my script, but she grips my shoulder, "You can't tell him." "Why?" "I need a genuine shocked reaction out of him." I snicker at the idea, "Sure thing." My bare feet pad along the smooth wood of the stage. I'm zipped tightly into the skin of my character. The scene draws closer and I cast a glance at the director before planting my lips onto his. They're soft and seem to melt around mine. However, the director protests as he isn't surprised or shocked at all. Instead, he pulls me closer and it's no longer a 'stage kiss.' He pulls away, and I've entirely fallen out of character. "You weren't supposed to enjoy that!" I yell at him. The director marches onstage and begins telling him off instantly. I steal away backstage to recollect. After the rehearsal is over, I'm nearly out the door before I feel his long, gentle fingers wrap around my wrist. I don't even turn around before I say, "You're one spoiled brat," with a grin on my lips. "I know," he answers smugly, "I'm just used to getting whatever I want." I turn around and kiss him again before slipping into my shoes and heading home.